


Wait, you’re serious?

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [50]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Author Stiles Stilinski, Confused Derek Hale, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Don't copy to another site, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Matchmaker Laura Hale, Matchmaker Sheriff Stilinski, Matchmaking, Mistaken Identity, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “Is there a particular reason you’re not at school right now?”The kid blinked at him, both hands still wrapped around the cup he’d almost sent flying. He turned to look around himself, as if trying to identify who Derek was speaking to, before realizing that he was, in fact, speaking to him.“Are you talking to me?” he asked, as if needing it confirmed.“I sure am.” Derek crossed his arms, going for disappointed as opposed to authoritative. Some of the little shits got all rebellious when he started acting authoritative and he didn’t want to have fists flying. It was always really awkward slapping handcuffs on minors for assault and calling their parents.The kid gave him an unimpressed look, then rolled his eyes. “Haha, hilarious.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667605
Comments: 119
Kudos: 2262





	Wait, you’re serious?

**Author's Note:**

> So number 50 of the prompt list was "Writer's Preference" and I had like, a bazillion ideas, but this one was poking at me as something ridiculous and fun and it wouldn't leave me alone so I figured it was a good ending to the series. Could've made it way longer but the point of these is one short, fun scene so that's what I did. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me for the past 50 days. Cannot believe we have legit been in quarantine for longer than 50 days, I was so sure this series would end after the quarantine period was over but apparently I was wrong... 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the series, I'm going to go and... be productive now or something. Thank you!

Derek had just climbed into the Camaro to head home after a long day at work when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it for a few long seconds, making no move to answer it. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the person on the other end, it was just that he felt a little anxious every time he got a call from his boss. Working extra shifts were fine, he didn’t mind, but somehow he always felt like a call from him was going to be bad news as opposed to a simple request for him to work more hours. 

Forcing himself to shrug off the worry, he answered the phone and put it to his ear. 

“Sheriff,” he said formally. Wasn’t like he could just call his boss _John_ , that would be disrespectful when he was such a well-respected individual. 

_“Derek. If memory serves, you’re done for the day, right?”_

“I am,” he confirmed. “Did you need me to stay on?” Derek had spent the whole day mostly handing out speeding tickets, so as long as whatever he was asked to stay late for was more exciting than that, he was okay with it. If it was paperwork, he’d still agree, but he’d be miserable. 

_“No, nothing like that. I know you don’t need any help, but Laura and I have been talking—”_ Oh God, Derek would rather have the paperwork!— _“and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”_

“Sheriff...” Derek didn’t know how to politely tell him that his sister was a troll and he didn’t need help with his love life. He forever rued the day he’d introduced the man to his sister, because they were like, best friends now and both determined to make his life _hell_! 

He knew the sheriff was just trying to help, but Laura was so frustrating with her insistence he was going to die alone that it was actually getting insulting. He was _only_ thirty-one! He had plenty of time to meet someone _on his own_! He didn’t need his fucking _boss_ helping to set him up. How fucking embarrassing. 

_“I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, son,”_ the sheriff insisted. _“This is someone I want you to meet for personal reasons. No strings attached, no expectations.”_

Derek couldn’t say no when he sounded so damn _reasonable_. “Where would you like to meet?” 

_“The coffeeshop down the road. If you could just grab a table, I’ll be there soon.”_

“See you soon.” Derek hung up, then sighed and texted a scathing message to his sister. She just replied with a smiley face, which he promptly responded to with a middle finger. 

Deciding it would be easier to leave his car at work, Derek climbed out and slammed the door, perhaps harder than intended, and started towards the street. Parrish waved on his way by, calling a farewell, and Derek raised one hand in acknowledgement before continuing on his way. 

He kind of wished he’d had a bit more advance notice on this outing. Not that he was necessarily interested in making a good impression, but if it was someone the _sheriff_ wanted him to meet, he’d have preferred to be wearing civvies as opposed to his uniform. Also his hair was kind of a mess, all windblown from the number of times he’d exited his cruiser today, and he hadn’t trimmed his beard in a while. 

Not that he cared, but still. Anyone Laura introduced him to was guaranteed to be someone he never wanted to see again. The sheriff? He’d never been introduced to anyone by the sheriff before. The only introductions he’d ever done were the officers at the precinct on Derek’s first day, and that hardly counted. 

Checking the time, as if he honestly thought he’d have the chance to run home and change, he knew that was a moot point and just let his hand fall before walking into the coffeeshop. It was just past two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so it was relatively empty. Most people were at work, or school, so only a few college-aged students and some retirees were milling about. 

Derek started for the cash to grab himself a drink when he paused, eyes catching on someone who definitely _shouldn’t_ be in the coffeeshop at this hour. 

He didn’t recognize the kid, which made sense considering he didn’t know everyone in town, but he looked vaguely familiar. Like he might’ve seen him in passing. He was sitting hunched at one of the tables with two empty cups and a crumb-covered plate. He had a laptop out and was typing away furiously on it. 

His head was buzzed, his eyes bright, and his tongue was peeking out between a pair of plump, pink lips. He was wearing a baggy hoodie, skinny jeans and worn out trainers. He was kind of adorable, in a totally little brother sort of way.

Because Derek knew this kid _had_ to be in high school, looking like that. Probably a senior, but still. 

Sighing, and hating he’d noticed at all, Derek put his on-duty face back on and bypassed the counter to head over to the table the kid was at. If he had two drinks and a plate, he’d obviously been there a while, which meant he was skipping school. Derek hated catching the ones who skipped school, it always reminded him of his teenage years when he used to have to tattle on Cora when she and her friends would take off during lunch. 

Moving right up beside the kid, he didn’t even seem to notice Derek, completely intent on what he was doing. Derek managed to peak at what he was typing so furiously, and it looked like some kind of story. Probably fanfiction. 

This guy had skipped school to write fanfiction? Did he realize fanfiction was done for free and his education was going to help him get a job that would actually provide money?

When he hovered a few seconds longer without the kid realizing, he sighed and then knocked lightly on the edge of the table. The kid started so violently he almost slapped one of the cups off the table before grabbing at it and managing to save it from shattering. 

Turning, he glanced up at Derek with big doe-brown eyes, and _wow_ , this kid was totally going to try and work the puppy dog eyes on him to not get in trouble. Derek wasn’t going to let him. 

“You startled the shit out of me,” the kid said, giving Derek a somewhat obvious once-over. 

Well, _that_ was inappropriate. He was like, twice his age. 

“Is there a particular reason you’re not at school right now?” 

The kid blinked at him, both hands still wrapped around the cup he’d almost sent flying. He turned to look around himself, as if trying to identify who Derek was speaking to, before realizing that he was, in fact, speaking to him. 

“Are you talking to me?” he asked, as if needing it confirmed. 

“I sure am.” Derek crossed his arms, going for disappointed as opposed to authoritative. Some of the little shits got all rebellious when he started acting authoritative and he didn’t want to have fists flying. It was always really awkward slapping handcuffs on minors for assault and calling their parents. 

The kid gave him an unimpressed look, then rolled his eyes. “Haha, hilarious.” He ran one hand over his hair, seemed startled about it for a second, and then sighed and rubbed at his buzzed head. 

When Derek didn’t move and kept staring at him, clearly waiting for an answer, the kid frowned at him, lips parting in shock and eyes widening. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

“School’s not out for another hour.” Derek’s eyes lowered pointedly to the empty cups and plate, proving how long he hadn’t been at school. “I don’t think your parents would appreciate knowing you’re not taking your education seriously.” 

Derek was a little miffed when the kid let out a loud bark of laughter at that. He seemed to recognize that was a bad thing to do, laugh in an officer’s face, but he cleared his throat and kept rubbing one hand back and forth along his buzzed head. 

“Wow. Okay. Uh, here’s the thing, I’m actually twenty-nine.” 

Derek snorted so hard it actually hurt and he rolled his eyes. Did he look like a fucking idiot? “Yeah, and I’m seventeen,” he said dryly. 

“Uh, I sure hope not,” the kid insisted, giving Derek another appreciative once-over. Okay seriously, he needed to stop, that was super inappropriate! “Otherwise the sheriff and I are gonna have to talk about why you got a badge at seventeen and I didn’t.” 

He felt _really_ uncomfortable with the way the kid was staring at him, and needed this conversation to be over with. Holding one out hand, the other still crossed over his chest, he motioned for the guy to hand something over. 

“Give me your phone.” 

The kid blinked at him again, hand stilling on his head. “Say what?” 

“Give me your phone,” he repeated, exasperated. “I’m calling your parents.” 

“Okay, seriously, am I getting punk’d right now?” The guy turned in his chair, letting his hand drop, and started looking around. “That show ended years ago. What even is happening right now?” 

“Give. Me. Your. Phone,” Derek said again, enunciating each word perfectly clearly. 

The kid gave him one last look, shifting into annoyance now, which meant Derek was about to get attitude. Great. 

Shaking his head, the guy arched his hips and reached into the pocket of his jeans. How he’d managed to fit _anything_ in those pockets was beyond Derek’s comprehension, they were so fucking tight. It was kind of weird to see tight jeans with the oversized hoodie, but maybe that was the fashion nowadays, who knew? Derek had long ago graduated high school, after all. 

Derek watched the kid unlock his phone, opening his messages a split second before Derek could fully see what his background had been. It looked like some kind of photo, but he hadn’t had the chance to actually register it, considering how fast the kid’s fingers were moving. 

Scrolling through his numbers, he stopped on one that was labelled ‘The Fatherman’ and then called it. As it rang, the kid put it on speaker, allowing the entire coffeeshop to overhear this conversation. 

Not that it mattered, they’d probably already been listening up to this point. If the kid wanted everyone to hear Derek tell his parents he was skipping school, that was his prerogative. 

The line clicked a moment later, and Derek felt like the world had just tipped sideways. 

_“Hey kiddo, I’m almost there. Just down the street at the light.”_

“Yeah, cool, can’t wait. Um, so pops, question for you. Can you uh, explain to me why one of your deputies thinks I’m a high schooler who skipped out and is now making me call my dad?” 

There was no way Derek was hearing things properly. No _fucking_ way that he was hearing the sheriff’s voice coming down the line on this kid’s phone. 

_“What?”_ the sheriff’s voice said. No, no! Not the sheriff’s voice. Someone who just _sounded_ like the sheriff, he was sure! _“What deputy?”_

“Tall, dark, ruggedly handsome?” the guy said, eying Derek again. “Perma-scowl?” 

_“Derek?!”_

“Sure, he looks like a Derek.”

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way this was happening to him right now. 

_“I’m pulling up, be inside in a second.”_

Derek turned to look out the window and, sure enough, a police cruiser was turning into the small lot, and the sheriff was behind the wheel. But if this truly _was_ the sheriff’s son, who’d been living in New York for the past ten years, then that meant he honestly _was_ twenty-nine years old. And he was also apparently a highly successful author, which would explain why he was writing.

Not fanfiction, apparently... Or, not _anymore_. 

And if all of this was true, it also explained why Derek kind of recognized him. The sheriff’s kid had been two years younger than him in high school, and he always got himself into trouble. He didn’t run in the same circles as Cora, but they were both the two troublemakers of their grade. And on top of that, the sheriff had pictures of his son all over his office, but he didn’t look like _this_! He looked—actually, quite attractive. Derek would admit he’d given the pictures of him a few glances every now and then.

But he usually had longer hair and a _beard_ and looked very much like the adult he apparently was. He did _not_ look like a teenager who’d skipped school, which was exactly what he looked like right now! 

This was just unfair. Laura had totally done this to fuck with him. 

When the door opened, Derek turned from his spot still looming over the sheriff’s son’s table, and saw his boss pause before he burst out laughing. 

Derek didn’t really appreciate that. 

“Jesus, kid. What the hell happened? You look like you’re _twelve_ , no wonder Derek thought you were still in school.” The sheriff reached them and slapped one hand on Derek’s closest shoulder. 

“I do not,” his son insisted, half-pouting and rubbing one hand over his head. “My usual barber was out and I got some new guy. Very green. He messed up my hair, and since it was summer, I figured he could just buzz it all off. It looked weird with my stubble, so I shaved this morning before my flight.” 

The sheriff was still laughing, like his son looked ridiculous, and it made Derek feel _slightly_ mollified to know that even his own _father_ thought he looked like a child. 

“You look exactly the same as you did when you were a freshman in high school. It’s a little confusing,” he insisted, turning to grab a chair since the table only had two, one of which was occupied. “Well, it’ll grow back. I think you should anticipate a lot of people not believing how old you are, though. And Parrish is going to laugh himself unconscious.” 

The guy groaned, bowing his head, still rubbing at it like he couldn’t help it. Now that Derek knew this wasn’t his usual hair style, it made sense that he was kind of obsessed with it. He was probably just as weirded out by the change as his father was. 

“I didn’t expect you to look like a twelve year old during this meeting but well, that’s all right.” The sheriff sat in the seat he’d pulled over and motioned for Derek to take the last one.

He did, a little uncomfortably. Clearly he was being invited to meet the sheriff’s son, because he was never in town and it was clear his boss wanted to introduce him. This was seriously so fucking mortifying. 

“Derek, this is my son, Stiles. Stiles, this is Derek Hale, one of my new deputies.” 

“Yes, we’ve met,” Stiles said with a teasing smirk. “He made me call my dad for skipping class.” 

“To be fair, even your dad said you look twelve,” Derek insisted, eyebrows raised and crossing his arms, leaning back in his seat. 

“Which really only makes this worse on you, because if I look twelve, I’d be in middle school and you thought I was in high school. So, bad detective skills there, _officer_ Hale.” 

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. “At least I didn’t get in trouble in class all the time for writing—what was it again? _Star Wars_ fanfiction?” 

Stiles sputtered and pointed an angry finger in Derek’s face, slamming the top of his laptop shut. “It turned out in my favour! I write _books_ now! I get _paid_ to write fanfiction! Okay, maybe not _fanfiction_ so much as my own stuff, but the point still stands! And at least nobody _else_ has mistaken the _sheriff’s son_ for a fucking _high schooler_!”

“You’ve literally been out of town for the past ten years, and nobody else had any reason to question why a _minor_ wouldn’t be in school!” 

“I bought a beer at a pub in New York last night!” Stiles insisted, motioning himself. “Nobody there questioned it! Asked for my ID, but I get that even _with_ my usual hair and stubble! I am just naturally youthful-looking!” 

“I do not believe for one _second_ you didn’t get shit for ordering that beer,” Derek insisted with a scoff. 

“Oh yeah? I can prove it!” 

“Fine.” Derek narrowed his eyes at him. “Tonight then. Eight o’clock. You’re not allowed to change.” He pointed a finger at him. “You wear those exact clothes, and I’ll bring you to the pub in town. We’ll see if anyone honestly believes you’re twenty-nine years old.” 

“Then _you_ can’t change either. Are you sure you want people to mistake an officer of the law out with a _minor_?” Stiles asked, smile all teeth and eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“Oh, for you, I’ll make an exception just to prove how _wrong_ you are.” 

“Fine.” Stiles leaned back in his seat. “It’s a date then.” 

“I guess it is.” 

"Good."

" _Fine_." 

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” 

Derek started, honestly having forgotten that the sheriff was sitting _literally_ right beside him. He felt a little gratified to see Stiles had jerked in his own seat, clearly just as startled as him.

The man was smiling knowingly between the two of them, posture relaxed and arms crossed loosely. Derek was about to ask him what he was talking about before he realized what had just happened. 

He’d... basically just asked his son out on a date. Sure, it was to prove a point, but he’d still _done_ it! He still had dinner plans with Stiles tonight, whether it had been a formal ‘let’s go on a date’ invitation or not! 

Honestly, it looked like Stiles was having that same revelation, and he looked like his father had just betrayed him. Maybe Derek wasn’t the only one constantly getting set up with people. 

Maybe this was all planned somehow. Not the haircut, since that was clearly out of left field for the sheriff, but apparently knowing his own son as well as he did, along with knowing Derek, he’d recognized that they would bait each other somehow and it would turn out like this. 

With Derek going out for dinner with his son. 

“Well, I’ve got some paperwork to get back to.” The sheriff slapped the table lightly with one hand. “Make sure you exchange numbers, I won’t wait up but try not to stay out all night. And I’ll tell the night shift to call me if someone from another county arrests you for being out on a date with a minor.” He patted Derek’s shoulder lightly once, chuckled to himself, then turned to leave the coffeeshop.

Once the door closed behind him, Derek turned back to Stiles, who looked just as stunned as Derek felt. 

“Oh, he is good,” Stiles insisted, turning to scowl towards the door. “He is a _smooth_ fucker. I forgot how tricky he was.”

“Does that mean you admit defeat?” Derek asked with a smirk. 

“Oh no, we are _doing this_!” Stiles stabbed his index finger against the table. “We are going out tonight. If I successfully get a beer without anything more than someone asking to check a few pieces of ID, then you—you are my personal gopher for my entire visit!” 

They were doing winner-takes-all now? Derek was down for that. 

“And if you’re denied, then I guess _I’m_ the one with a personal gopher.” 

“Fine.” Stiles looked _way_ too confident. Actually, with that expression on his face, he _did_ look a little bit older. It was strange. 

Or maybe it was just that Derek officially knew now that he truly _was_ twenty-nine, so little things were poking through to confirm it. 

He was aging exceptionally well though, good Lord. Twenty-nine and looking like _that_? Laura would be jealous. 

“If you get arrested though, I’m not helping you,” Stiles informed him. 

“If I get arrested, I’m making them call your dad and that’s considered _my_ win because _clearly_ it means they believe I’m out with a minor.” 

“So we’re agreed?” Stiles asked, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I win, you’re my gopher. You win, I’m your gopher.” 

Derek slowly uncrossed his arms, leaned forward, and held out one hand. “Agreed.” 

Stiles reached out to take it, shaking it firmly. 

This was going to be a very interesting visit indeed. Derek was looking forward to having a gopher. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis  
> Star Wars (c) George Lucas 
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).


End file.
